Although I think that poetry is often pretentious and haven't written a great deal lately also because of the fear of hypocrisy, it feels like a good time to cram out verse that I wrote years ago and that I actually like. (Although they're far from remarkable: poems I churned out as 'sketches' for poems I cared more about and kept only because they could be worse.) These remind me of the oceanside and the streams and the forest scenes I'm no longer likely to see any more now that we've moved away from Canada.
Sea Anemones
Through the tea-like, sunlit shimmer of the water in the tidal pool,
colonies of pudgy anemones in moss-dark green, ring and pad the scaly granite:
their tentacles, as meekly pink as earthworms, extend in peaceful concentricity.
***
The sparkling path
In brilliant glee the crescent minnow wends its
tail through water clear to ripple out its minute
breath in bubbles rising to the air. It chases light
and chases shade and casts its faded silhouette on the static
blandness within the pebbled riverbed.
***
Lastly, a very non-Canadian nonsense poem about rose branches climbing on a castle wall:
Up the castle walls, winding into the air, the tough brown twigs and bright green shoots and dark-scarlet tinged buds, the wings of stipule and hooked long sepals at the blossoms, where (thin and scented) gather yellow petals and a ring of crinkled brown pistils casts its pollen to the breezes: like incense censers to waft the rose's spring in past embrasures to the stony recesses.
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